


strings attached

by verity



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cats, Getting Together, Kazakhstan, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9497798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: Grandpa likes to call Yuri's cat—hisothercat—Matroskin, because she talks so much. Maya hid under Yuri's bed for their first two months of cohabitation and yowled every time he kicked his shoes under there. She’ll cuddle up to Yuri now as long as they both pretend it’s not happening. That’s the proper order of things when it comes to humans and cats.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reallyyeahokay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallyyeahokay/gifts).



> For reallyyeahokay, who wanted Otabek/Yuri + a cat. Thanks to Ashe, blame to Meg, love to the usual suspects.

"You got _yourself_ a cat, you mean," Yuri says.

"Her name is Snejïnka, but you can call her something else if you want," Otabek says.

Snejïnka has short ears, one eye, and white fur that she is doing her best to shed all over Yuri's black pants. She leans into Yuri's outstretched palm until he scratches her under the chin. "I can't take her home, idiot."

Otabek shakes his head. "Your cat in Almaty."

Snejïnka purrs, the delicate skin of her throat vibrating against Yuri's fingers. Otabek gazes at them both with his cool, serious eyes.

* * *

Yuri texts Otabek after he buys the tickets, just a screenshot of his flight confirmation for tomorrow. He has a passport, it’s summer, and in Kazakhstan, they even speak Russian. This is already easier than going after Victor in Japan.

“Oh good,” he says when he sees Otabek waiting outside arrivals the next day. “You got my message.”

“I did.” says Otabek. He’d look somber if it weren’t for the twinkle in his eye. “I guess you’re staying at my place.”

“You _guess_ ,” Yuri says loudly.

* * *

Otabek’s motorbike here is older than the one he’d rented in Barcelona, but it rides like a dream on the highway toward the cluster of tall buildings at the city’s center. The straps of Yuri’s backpack dig into his shoulders as they roar down the road. Yuri’s arms are wrapped around Otabek’s waist, his cheek pressed to the warm leather of Otabek’s jacket. Below the helmet, the sun shines hot on his face.

They park in a parking garage beneath one of the hi-rises and take a short elevator ride to the sixth floor. Not high enough for an expensive view, not low enough to look directly into the McDonalds across the street. "Huh," Yuri says, peering into the apartment. "I thought you’d have a dirt floor or something."

For some reason, Otabek smiles at him—just a faint curve of the lips. "You’ll have to go up into the mountains for that.“

Yuri tosses his bag onto the floor by the couch. “I didn’t make any plans yet.”

“By the way,” says Otabek. "I have something for you."

* * *

Grandpa likes to call Yuri's cat—his _other_ cat—Matroskin, because she talks so much. Maya hid under Yuri's bed for their first two months of cohabitation and yowled every time he kicked his shoes under there. She’ll cuddle up to Yuri now as long as they both pretend it’s not happening. That’s the proper order of things when it comes to humans and cats.

When Yuri sits down on the couch, Snejïnka climbs into his lap and refuses to be moved. “What’s wrong with you, weirdo?” He strokes the soft fur on her back. “So friendly.”

Otabek sits down beside Yuri, pulling his legs up onto the cushions to sit cross-legged. His greying athletic socks have more hole than toe and there’s a blood blister under one of his toenails. “Not every cat’s like you and me.”

“What does that mean?” Yuri says.

Otabek just shrugs. His knee bumps against Yuri’s thigh.

* * *

Summer means bright days, late nights. They’re not quite so late here as in Saint Petersburg, where the northern lights can keep the sky pale long after midnight, but the sky is still bright and blue when Otabek leads Yuri out into the city for dinner. They take the bike out again, dodging through traffic on crowded streets, heading east to a restaurant that serves trendy versions of traditional Kazakh food in smaller portions on delicate plates.

“Is this some kind of cover-up?” Yuri tries to not to shovel whatever this eggplant dish is into his mouth. It’s so spicy that his eyes are welling with approving tears. “Are you trying to keep me from finding out you live off instant noodles?”

“I burn noodles,” Otabek says.

“Wow,” Yuri says. “Even I can make noodles.”

The patio where they’re sitting looks over the mountains, their sharp rise lushly carpeted with forest. Yuri chews, swallows, wipes his mouth with a napkin. A cloth napkin. Abruptly, he reassesses the situation: trendy food, fancy restaurant, Otabek sitting tall in his riding leathers. Are they on a date? Shit. Yuri’s never been a date before. How should he know? Maybe he should be acting, like—nicer. 

Oh well. If Otabek wants a nicer Yuri, he knows where to find Katsuki.

* * *

The sun is finally drawing down behind the mountains when they return to the apartment. Otabek’s couch folds down into a bed and he even has clean sheets for it. Ridiculous. Snejïnka leaps onto the bed as soon as they make it up, and when Yuri sits down, she crawls right back into Yuri’s lap. Otabek stands in front of them, hands shoved into his pockets. Eyes crinkling a little at the corners. 

“What am I supposed to give _you_ , anyway?” Yuri says.

“You don’t have to give me anything.” Otabek drops his eyes for a moment. “Snejïnka, though, you’ll have to visit her. Otherwise she’ll get lonely.”

Yuri doesn’t blush, but his cheeks feel like they’re burning. How neatly he’s been outmaneuvered by someone who doesn’t even answer text messages. “I’m offended,” he says.

“Oh?” says Otabek.

It’s hard to kiss someone when you have a cat in your lap, but Yuri fists a hand in the soft fabric of Otabek’s shirt and gives it his best shot.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [strings are for playing with](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11978070) by [Suzume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/pseuds/Suzume)




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